show me where my armor ends
by mmoonlit
Summary: Set after the third season finale. Quinn is leaving Lima behind; she's going to Yale, where a whole new life is there for her to take it. But as much as she is slowly letting go from her past, there are some things she refuses to leave. One of them is most certainly Rachel Berry.
1. i rebuild when i break down

**N/A: **This is my first Glee fanfic ever. Like, I've never written anything Glee-related until three days ago. I completely blame the Faberry fandom. I was over Glee, I really was, but then I relapsed spectacularly, started having all these ideas for Quinn, and here I am. I hope you guys enjoy it.

**Disclaimer:** Glee, obviously, doesn't belong to me. I don't know if that makes me happy because I'm not responsible for the trainwreck, or if I'm sad because I can't change it.

**1. i rebuild when i break down**

_When I break pattern, I break ground_  
><em>I rebuild when I break down<em>  
><em>I wake up more awake<em>  
><em>Than I've ever been before<em>

_Pluto - Sleeping at Last_

* * *

><p><em>Dear Quinn,<em>  
><em>Every single time I fantasized about leaving Lima, I never thought I would have written a yearbook message to Quinn Fabray. Ever. But I'm so, so glad that my fantasies are the complete opposite of the reality. From all the people I have met during my formative years, you are one of whom I'll miss the most ‒ not for long, though. You may certainly expect me visiting New Haven next term, and I'll likewise be happy to have you in New York!<em>  
><em>You have a brilliant future ahead of you, Quinn; as brilliant as you are. I'm so proud of being your friend, and I can't wait to witness you shine even more.<em>  
><em>Love, <em>  
><em>Rachel<em> ✩

Quinn puts her yearbook down with a sigh and looks at her bedroom ceiling with disinterest. She should really stop reading that same page over and over again (was it, what, the fiftieth time that week?), but it's not like she has much else to do, right? The paper filled with neat writing and the picture of a smiling Rachel Berry is already smeared by her fingerprints ‒ and, yes, some tears ‒, even though she has had the book for less than a month. It would be really hard to explain if, say, Santana decides to pry through her stuff and finds out she is _obsessing over a message from Berry, of all people_.

And those would be Santana's words, obviously, because Quinn isn't obsessing; she is touched. Rachel Berry said that she is brilliant. The future Broadway star and the most talented person Quinn knows thinks she is more than a pretty face. Even when Quinn was at her worst ‒ and there were more "worst" moments in her high school career than she ever thought possible to handle ‒, Rachel believed in her, despite all the horrible things Quinn had done.

For years, Quinn has found Rachel's inherent kindness absolutely unnerving; no one can possibly be that forgiving, especially of her. All Quinn has ever known was how to manipulate and hurt people to get her way through. She has hurt her own family, by stupidly getting pregnant at fifteen. Even though she would never forgive her father and sister for forsaking her, and in spite of her still rocky relationship with her mother, Quinn couldn't help blaming herself for tearing her family apart. She has also hurt Finn, Puck and Sam, with all the lying and cheating; Santana, when Quinn stomped her way back in the Cheerios last year; Mercedes, by pretending she hadn't been her only solace during the last months of her pregnancy; the rest of the glee club, every time she turned her back on them for some selfish reason; Rachel, whom she has repeatedly attacked morally, emotionally and, once, even physically, and none of them for an acceptable reason. Quinn has even hurt Shelby, whose life she actively tried to ruin to get Beth back.

Beth. The person Quinn has hurt the most, and the only one who wouldn't even remember it ‒ remember _her_. Quinn's perfect thing, her beautiful daughter, whom she has failed extraordinarily. All because she was desperate to find anything in her life that she had done right. She couldn't keep a boyfriend, win any competition, have a functional family or simply, honestly _be loved_. Then Beth came back in her life like a beacon, and it was suddenly all she could see. There she was, the one mistake that turned into something ‒ someone ‒ so flawless; Quinn immediately felt the uncontrollable impulse to take her back. She is glad, now, that she ultimately gave up on her plans, even if it means she'll never get to see her daughter again. She could have never been able to provide a good life to Beth, either at fifteen or seventeen, and Quinn finally understood that Shelby was right: being a mother is really about giving up a part of herself, and to Quinn, it meant giving up _Beth_. Keeping her would have only shattered both their lives, not to mention Puck's. They would have been stuck in Lima, full of bitterness and resentment over every crushed possibility.

Quinn laughs sourly and presses the yearbook against her face. And to think being stuck in Lima was her life plan with Finn once upon a time. It seemed the only reasonable thing to do back then: her father refused to allow her access to her trust fund and her mother's job as an insurance clerk barely covered the bills, so a real college was out of her league. It irritated her to no end that Rachel, with all her talent and supportive parents, could even imagine that simpleton Finn was a right fit for her. No, never leaving that hellhole of a city was for screw-ups like Quinn Fabray. Rachel Berry had a real future within grasp, far away from Lima, and all Quinn could do was watch it happen from the sidelines, lonely ‒ because, yeah, not even Finn wanted her ‒ and perpetually punishing herself for her own mistakes.

But Rachel didn't agree with her in the least. She was the only person in Quinn's life to actually believe she had a future; the only person who could easily see someone in her not even Quinn herself was aware of being. Rachel gave her hope, and her unsettling compassion turned out to be one of Quinn's motivations. Rachel's words had stuck inside her head ‒ words about not having to be scared of the future, getting it right (the painful irony of it was never lost on her) and being an adult ‒, inspiring her to give up her crazy idea of taking Beth away from Shelby and apply to Yale. When she got the acceptance letter, she felt the happiest she had ever been in probably all her life. Quinn was so proud of herself for finally being able to see a concrete path ahead of her, and all she could think about was telling Rachel; seeing that proud smile would mean she had really got it right.

As everything in her life, though, her revelation didn't go as planned, and Quinn groans in exasperation when the memories seeps through her mind. She did get the smile, and a hug more honest and comfortable than any other she had ever got, but she was also met with the possibility of Rachel tying ‒ or tethering, she thinks bitterly ‒ herself to Finn for the rest of her life. Quinn didn't understand it, and what had frustrated her the previous year quickly turned into a desperate, flaming rage. _Rachel Berry_, with a voice that moved masses and an earth-quaking confidence that could take over the world, would settle for _Finn Hudson_, a sore loser who wasn't even sure of what he wanted to do with his own life ‒ apart from destroying Rachel's, of course.

Quinn felt lied to. Everything Rachel had ever told her, and everyone who would listen, about being a star and concentrating on her career, and all her fierce determination to never give up on her dreams ‒ it all crumbled down before one idiotic, rushed and unthought proposal. Quinn tried everything she could think of to talk Rachel out of marrying before she even graduated high school; but as she had been with the path to stardom she had once dreamed of, Rachel was adamant on her decision, to the point of severely damaging their tentative friendship.

It hurt; Quinn had never thought about it until that moment, but Rachel has always had the knack for stripping Quinn's emotions bare without even trying. It's like she can see every crack on the walls Quinn has carefully built to protect herself ‒ to protect the naïve, innocent Lucy inside her. Everything she feels regarding Rachel is unreasonably amplified; Quinn was used to the anger and the envy, her close companions during sophomore and junior years, but what really got to her were all those deep conversations and nerve-racking moments they kept having despite their rivalry. Quinn let her guard down too many times around her, but instead of digging the knife deeper (as Quinn had done many times in the past, whenever their positions were reversed), Rachel always presented herself as a soothing, healing force to all Quinn's wounds, and that created a whole new range of hyperbolic emotions she didn't (doesn't) know how to handle. Quinn hadn't realized she was fighting the chance of having a great friend in Rachel until she decided to consciously let her in.

Their tainted past notwitstanding, their friendship is pure and sincere, and Quinn has never felt so content around anyone before. Rachel is supportive, caring and even funny (in the quirkiest way possible, but Quinn has grown to appreciate it). So when that sheer contentment was endangered by their disagreement, Quinn felt her world spin too fast. Time was ticking away and she had to make things right ‒ she couldn't afford to lose the only friendship that wasn't all about stabbing each other's back, pointless conversations or talking endlessly about God. With that in mind, she overcame her pride and decided to support Rachel as she had supported Quinn, even if it meant dealing with the ever-brewing disgust at the pit of her stomach.

That also, _obviously_, because that's just how Quinn's life works, went astray from the plans. She delicately places the book on her bedside table and gets up to walk over to the mirror on the other side of her room just because she can. Just because a few weeks ago she still couldn't. It took only ten seconds and one stupid decision of taking her eyes off the road for her world to turn literally upside down. Her memories are still hazy and she isn't sure she _wants_ to remember, anyway; all that ever comes to her mind are periods of complete numbness followed by excruciating pain, her mother's hand softly holding hers for weeks, bleary words about broken bones and punctured organs and spinal injury from the doctors, a lot of crying faces she couldn't really make out, more surgeries than she could count, and, above all, an overwhelming sensation of failure that she just couldn't fathom.

During those ungodly days she spent bound to a hospital bed, Quinn couldn't help the single-minded feeling of failing Rachel by not showing up at the wedding. She had failed to be there for the only person who really cared about her. She tries not to think about what she would have actually done at the wedding; if she would really be able to stand watching her moron of an ex-boyfriend ruin her friend's future. That line of thought raises questions about the lengths she was willing to go to protect Rachel from maiming her own life ‒ lengths she had never crossed for anyone but herself. It makes Quinn feel vulnerable and confused, and she doesn't do either of those feelings. She doesn't do uncertainty.

Ultimately, Quinn did (unintentionally) stop the wedding, and the facts are always more important than 'what ifs'. But while she felt an immense relief knowing Rachel still had a chance to retrace her destiny, Quinn had more pressing matters to deal with. She traces her fingers over her jumper on the places she knows the fabric veils the scars. The accident had left her legs temporarily disabled, not to mention her torso full of cracked bones and shattered glass. Quinn would think that God had already put her through everything to pay for her mistakes, but she was still being tested. So, all alone in her dark room, she started to pray; for herself, for her mother, for her friends, for Beth. Her faith provided her some kind of assuagement, and she decided to try making peace with her past. Easier said than done, but if God had given her one more chance in life, she was going to make it count. She would get up on her feet yet again.

Quinn called Artie to get some pointers on being on a wheelchair; she didn't want to go back to school like a charity case who needed to be wheeled everywhere. It was nice having someone who understood her needs, and she really found a good friend in Artie, but she drew the line when it became clear he wished her condition to be permanent so he wouldn't feel all alone. She really felt for him, but it wasn't her situation and she couldn't afford to be put down any lower. Likewise, Rachel was a lovely company as always, but Quinn kept catching glimpses of guilt in her eyes ‒ like it was her fault that Quinn had been so stupendously irresponsible ‒, and it hurt too much to see Rachel Berry taking pity on her, so she started to avoid her until she could feel comfortable in her new skin. All the other glee kids (including the God Squad) didn't know exactly how to deal with her either, and it was starting to really frustrate Quinn, even though she never let it show.

Except for Joe; he was a godsend, almost literally. A cute, Christian guy with a huge heart, who helped her through her physiotherapy without missing a beat. However, his hesitancy in acting on their mutual attraction made Quinn feel unsettled. She was Quinn Fabray; guys didn't hesitate with her (on the contrary, they got her pregnant). But then she was Quinn Fabray on a wheelchair ‒ an invisible, gross cripple. She had tried to mask her hurt with nonchalance, but that idea tortured her for a couple of days until Joe voiced his real concerns. The reprieve she felt with his kind words gave her such a rush, but they also instantly made her think. There stood yet another boy, ready and willing to do anything for her. Yes, the feeling of control was amazing, and it really boosted her confidence sky high, but Joe was disposed to give up on his _faith_ for her. It was something big. Also, Quinn would be going to Yale in a few months, and while she liked Joe, it was more in the sense of how he made her feel than anything she felt for him. It wouldn't be fair to lead him on just so she could feel good about herself. Quinn grins at her reflection before going back to her bed. Now, that Quinn Fabray is a far cry from her younger self.

She still had an Achilles' heel, though. Her mother's eyes had sparkled at the news of Quinn being selected Prom Queen candidate, and suddenly Quinn felt fifteen again, struggling to make her family proud. Only this time it was more because of how hard her mother worked to pay her medical bills along with everything else than some warped sense of family perfection. She needed to be Prom Queen so she could give her mom a little happiness in all that chaos that their lives had turned into ‒ and yes, of course, she wanted to feel on top again. The problem was that, whenever Quinn was on a mission, she didn't give morals a lot of thought; it was all about winning. So she recruited Finn ‒ without disclosing this to Rachel, because she knew very well where that conversation would lead to ‒ to campaign with her, and wasn't above using her physical condition to earn votes, even though she was almost walking without support. It wasn't like she enjoyed dramatizing it; Quinn wasn't one to victimize herself for anything. But all she could think about was her mother's daily sagged shoulders after extenuating working hours, and all those crowns she still kept so carefully safe inside her room. Judy Fabray was a fighter, and so was her daughter. She would win that crown.

And she did. Barely, by one vote, and almost having it ruined by Finn's public bout of violence, but she did. However, Quinn wasn't thinking about her mother or ruling the school anymore. Her mind was once again filled with Rachel's words about friendship and accomplishments. Quinn felt sick with the notion that Rachel had lost everything she had ever dreamed of while she was obsessing over something as insignificant as a plastic crown. Finn was right; she had been a really crappy friend, stealing Rachel's boyfriend away (although she had made her intentions with him very clear ‒ her friendship with Rachel mattered more than fake-liking Finn Hudson _again_ to earn votes) so he would do her bidding and completely abandoning Rachel when she needed support the most. Quinn looks at her bedside table, where a picture of her, Rachel, Santana and Brittany at the Prom sits in a nice, silver frame. Rachel's smile is so big it's almost blinding, and she's supporting a barely standing Quinn with Santana's help. Yeah, Quinn doesn't regret rigging that election in the least.

God seemed to finally decide her high school career of struggling had been enough a punishment, because the last weeks at McKinley were the best she had ever had. Quinn not only started walking again, but was able to sing and dance to help winning Nationals, and ended up being nominated Valedictorian for graduation, thanks to her Yale acceptance, her more than fine GPA and, mostly, all the struggle she went through without dropping the ball. She also gave Puck a little push (that may have been totally a suggestion from Rachel, but it was ultimately Quinn's decision) into finding himself again, and even if the kiss they shared didn't mean anything in particular to her, it felt good to see him graduating. He was the father of her daughter, and she would always love him a bit because of that, but she most definitely wasn't in love with him. Also, Quinn had meant it when she said she wouldn't drag her past into her future, and Noah Puckerman had one big "past" label all over his mohawk.

The rigged prom encouraged Rachel to pick up her confidence and stalk Madam Tibideaux into her NYADA acceptance. Quinn felt so incredibly proud of her (and, secretly, of Santana and herself) that she started to feel sad they wouldn't see each other all the time anymore. Their friendship was really inspiring, and once that Quinn had that taste of what having a real friend was like, she wouldn't give it up that easily. So she bought them train tickets, just so Rachel wouldn't forget not only where her future stood, but that Quinn would be only a couple of hours away for whenever she wanted to see her. In addition to that, a few days later Finn told Quinn and the rest of the glee club about this decision to set Rachel free to go to New York without him, and as much as Quinn felt like thanking Finn for making an adult decision once in his life, she knew Rachel wouldn't take this very well ‒ mostly because she was still thinking they would get married back then. Rachel would need all the support she could get, and Quinn would be ready to be there for her, either in New Haven or New York.

That wouldn't be happening so soon, though. It's still mid-July, and there's still a whole month before Quinn has to go to Yale. Her dorm room is secured thanks to the trust fund she and her mom finally wrestled away from her father to pay for the tuition, so she doesn't have to worry about fishing for a place to live. She's basically bored out of her mind, hence the whole yearbook rereading drill. Quinn rolls on her back and picks up her phone on her bedside table. She doesn't like the little shiver that goes down her spine whenever she feels the device between her fingers, but she figures she'll have to deal with it and act like a normal human being. It took her almost a month to finally buy a new phone after the accident, and it had been only because her mom had nagged on and on about Quinn isolating herself from her friends. Which was her intention, but she decided to placate her mother and just bought the damn thing. Grimacing at the bright screen, Quinn reads the time: 11:46 in the morning, also known as too early to call anyone to hang out. Mercedes is at work in a retail shop at the Lima Mall, Santana (and Brittany, probably together) must be sleeping like a rock, Sam is babysitting his siblings, Joe is out of town in a Christian Camp since last month, and Rachel is in New York, of course.

As if on cue, her phone buzzes against her palm and Quinn almost drops it with a gasp. Then she reads the name _Rachel_ and feels a smile creeping up on her face ‒ speaking of the devil. She hasn't talked to Rachel properly since before she went to New York two weeks ago, apart from a few text messages here and there. Quinn lets the third ring play out before answering ‒ Rachel doesn't need to know how desperate she is to have someone to talk to.

"Hey, Rach," she calls out good-naturedly, already expecting the over-effusive response. The nickname is spontaneous by now; Rachel really seems to appreciate it, so Quinn tends to favor it over her full name.

"_Good morning, Quinn! I hope I'm not waking you up or interrupting anything,_" Rachel replied chipperly, and Quinn can nearly envision the Broadway smile on her face on the other side of the line. The thought of it makes her chuckle.

"No, I woke up ages ago. I'm just contemplating the vastness of my boredom right now, so I'm actually glad you called. How are you?" she asks, grinning at the giggle she gets as a reaction.

"_I'm wonderful, thank you for asking. And how are you, apart from your obvious lethargy?_" Rachel inquires in an amused tone, and there is the idiosyncratic humor Quinn became rather fond of.

"I'm fine. You know, same old. How's the Big Apple?"

"_Oh, it's marvelous, as usual, but I got back to Lima last night, so I can empathize with the monotony,_" Rachel's speech is mostly on the matter-of-fact side, but there's an edge of something Quinn can't decipher. She doesn't dwell on it, though, because the idea of having her friend back in Lima to free her from her uneventful days brings a full-blown smile to her face.

"You're back already? I thought you'd spend more time in New York with your dads or something," she asks, recalling their text exchanges. Not once have Rachel mentioned coming back so soon.

"_They needed to get back to work, so we all came back. I'll have plenty of New York very soon, and I- I never got the chance to- to really say goodbye to Lima, so now that everything is set with my housing at NYADA, I decided to spend my last month here,_" she explains quietly with a breaking voice, and Quinn almost punches herself in reprimand. Of course Rachel wanted to come back; Finn had put her in a train without even giving her a chance to come to terms about leaving Lima or him.

The glee kids threw him a small farewell party at Puck's house last week. Nobody mentioned Rachel or New York the whole night, and on the next morning he was gone to Georgia for his basic training. Quinn bites her lip and holds out a sigh before answering.

"Oh, that's nice. Welcome back, Rach," she manages, trying not to sound too solemn.

"_Thank you, Quinn. I'm happy to be back,_" Rachel answers in a shy timbre, and there's a somewhat nervous pause before she resumes her talking. "_I-I was wondering if- if you'd like to meet me at the Lima Bean later._"

Quinn barks out a laugh, relieved both for the opportunity of hanging out and for Rachel dismissing the touchy subject so quickly.

"Yes, please! I'm dying to get out of this house. You're my savior," she replies quickly, not even bothered by how needy she sounded. She _really_ needed to get out.

"_Well, I'm glad to be of help,_" Rachel says in a delighted voice. "_Is 2 PM appropriate?_"

"Perfect. I'll see you there," Quinn responds, already getting up to have a quick shower.

"_See you, Quinn,_" are Rachel's last words before the call ends.

Quinn places her phone on her vanity, checks herself again on the mirror beside it and smiles; one phone call and her day has already taken a full turn for the better.


	2. suddenly i see you

**N/A: **Heeey, guys! Sorry I couldn't update sooner. I had like a lifetime of papers to write, so the rest my life was pretty much on hold for a while. I'm mostly back now, and I'm compensating with a huge chapter full of Quinn and Rachel from beginning to end! Have fun!

* * *

><p><strong>2. suddenly i see you<strong>

_I was a billion little pieces  
>'Til you pulled me into focus<br>Astronomy in reverse  
>It was me who was discovered<em>

_Venus - Sleeping at Last_

* * *

><p>It isn't until Quinn gets out of the car ‒ she's slowly coming to terms with driving, one small nightmare of a trip at a time, mostly because her mom is never home to drive her anywhere and Quinn refuses to let PTSD rule her life ‒ that she realizes it's the first time she's meeting Rachel outside of school and it's only the two of them. She's struck by the thought and by how much it doesn't bother her. I could be because they have studied and attended glee club together daily for years, but Quinn knows that's not the reason. She's perfectly aware of how new this is, but it's such an expected development in their friendship that it feels natural; they are going to visit each other next term, after all. This is their new thing, and it makes her smile.<p>

About a minute later, she's sat at a table not far from the balcony when the front door opens to reveal Rachel Berry wearing a cute red and white polka dot sundress ‒ thank God her wardrobe is slowly becoming rather fashionable; hopefully New York will enhance that tendency. Quinn smiles and raises her eyebrows in mild surprise, because while it's completely expected from Rachel, she's not used to hanging out with someone so punctual. All her other friends (except for Joe, maybe, but they have never actually hung out apart from her physiotherapy sessions) are always at least half an hour late to their appointments ‒ Santana, naturally, takes about two hours to meet her, so Quinn never even bothers with punctuality either. The same line of thought seems to go through Rachel's mind when their eyes meet, if her slightly taken aback expression is anything to go by. But soon her face turns into elation as she quickly walks toward Quinn, who gets up to greet her with a pleased grin of her own.

"Hi, Quinn," Rachel greets happily, but tenses up like a startled rabbit as she stands in front of Quinn, who rolls her eyes in amusement.

"Yes, Rach, you can hug me," she barely ends her sentence when (after a small squeal) delicate arms wrap around her torso in a tight embrace. Quinn chuckles, basking in Rachel's touchy-feely nature that used to annoy her in the past. Hugs have always made her feel uncomfortable ‒ it's a way of letting people too close, which makes her instantly wary. Besides, she doesn't know the proper hug etiquette, since it has never been a thing inside her family; she has no idea when it's okay to hug, or how long must it last. But hugging Rachel is an entirely new experience, and she's finding the whole thing extremely enjoyable. It's relaxing and pleasant, largely because Quinn understands it's Rachel's way of expressing how much she appreciates having her around.

Quinn doesn't time their hug, but she figures it might fall into the I-missed-you-so-much category. She's not sure, but chooses to think like that, because she has kind of missed Rachel, too.

"I'm sorry for making you wait. I'm actually used to waiting an eternity for Kurt, so your punctuality is quite refreshing," Rachel reveals in a bashful tone while they sit opposite each other at the table.

"I arrived like a minute ago, don't worry. And we're probably the only punctual people in this city, anyway, because I was thinking the same thing," Quinn replies and smirks, but she can't help but notice that Rachel didn't mention how Finn never arrives on time for anything. She decides to file this blatant omission for further examination later.

Rachel looks outside briefly, then her face scrunches up in a worried expression. "Did you come here driving?" she asks with urgency, searching Quinn's face for something ‒ what, an injury? Visual proof of any traumas? "I'm so sorry, Quinn, I should have offered to pick you up."

"Rachel, it's fine," Quinn drawls with annoyance, even though she finds Rachel's unexpected concern sort of endearing. "I'm not freaking out about driving or anything. I just never take my eyes off the road anymore, which is actually a good thing, so whatever. Don't worry, really."

It's an extreme toning down, of course — driving still leaves her rather shaky and nauseous —, but Quinn doesn't want to feed Rachel's obvious anguish. It's bad enough that she never really overcame her guilt over her accident. Rachel nods once, and the tense moment is mercifully interrupted by the waitress. Quinn makes her order, and watches with curiosity as Rachel makes hers. As the attendant leaves, she turns to Quinn in silent questioning.

"It's just- isn't it hard, being a vegan? I mean, most places don't even have vegetarian options that aren't salad, so vegans must have extra trouble with this. Like ordering soy milk or having food that doesn't contain dairy or eggs," she inquires, eyeing Rachel attentively as she comes to really acknowledge her friend's convictions for the first time.

"Why, Quinn, I'm surprised you know so much about veganism! Not- not many people can't tell the difference from vegetarianism," Rachel replies with a pleased smile that falters for a heartbeat, and it's obvious to Quinn that she was about to talk about Finn (who probably can't even remember that Rachel is a vegan most times - just like he never seemed to recall Quinn is allergic to peanuts, if the weekly Butterfinger bars he used give her when she was pregnant were any indication). "And you're right, it is very hard. Here is one of the safe places in Lima, but mostly I must count on my dad's homemade food or Asiatic cuisine take out."

"I'm not trying to sound disrespectful or anything, but don't you ever think about giving up?" Quinn asks carefully, because she doesn't think she could ever live with so many restrictions. It was hard enough following Sue Sylvester's crazy diet when she was cheerleader, and even then she would eventually bend for some bacon to appease her craving.

"Never. My convictions are too important to me. I respect that other people don't share them, and I understand that I make my life considerably harder by deciding to be vegan, but I don't mind it if I get to have peace of mind in exchange," Rachel answers simply, her eyes meeting Quinn's with that fire that ignites her brown iris every time she talks about something she loves.

Quinn smiles and arches her eyebrows at her friend; she remembers Joe and his devotion to his faith, and she can't help but admire Rachel Berry a little bit more. "That's good, being true to your beliefs. It's really impressive, actually," she concludes with a thoughtful expression, and Rachel reacts with a sweet, shy smile. It's intriguing to find out that the bluntest person she knows (apart from Santana, obviously) is actually rather timid. Quinn has always prided herself of having deep knowledge of her enemies, but the more she gets to know Rachel, the more she becomes aware of how much she has missed.

"Thank you, Quinn," Rachel says, and then her phone buzzes inside her white handbag. Frowning, Rachel fishes it and stares at the screen. "Oh, it's Daddy. He's browsing for furniture to redecorate his office, so he probably wants an opinion. Do you mind if I answer this phone call?"

"No, not at all," Quinn replies, and Rachel walks out from the cafe to greet her father happily on the phone. Quinn is surprised by the sneak peek of Rachel's relationship with her dads. It seems so...equal? There doesn't seem to be a hierarchy, and her opinion is as important as her fathers', even for something as trivial as decoration.

Quinn comes from a household where she was always supposed to follow a very strict line ‒ perfect daughter, perfect student, perfect future someone's wife. Those notions went away along with her father, because Judy was afraid of asking too much from Quinn and ending up losing her again. She never uttered a word during Quinn's punk phase, no matter how much her face crumpled whenever she caught sight of her daughter. Quinn didn't offer her any explanations for her erratic behavior ‒ there were no words about how undeserving she felt, watching everyone around her loving and being loved by someone, except for the supposed high school princess, or about how everything she did was never good enough. She didn't trust her mother enough back then, and their relationship was strained for several months. But after Quinn woke up from the accident, they had a very heartfelt conversation about expectations and reliance, and their bond only improved since.

Still, it's nothing like what Rachel seems to have with her parents. Quinn wonders how can people think a gay couple isn't able to properly raise a child. It's so preposterous, even more so when she looks at Rachel Berry, McKinley's 2012 Salutatorian, Show Choir National champion, NYADA student and future Broadway star. Quinn grew up in a traditional family ‒ in the most extreme sense of the word ‒, and it has done nothing for her but making her feel miserable and anxious and hated. What's so good about having the white-picket-fence American dream if it's all made of lies? If all it takes is one mistake to everything turn to dust? She would rather have a "non-traditional" family like Rachel's and feel unconditionally accepted and loved.

Quinn shakes her head to dismiss those thoughts. She loves her mom, and she _is_ accepted and loved ‒ only not by her father and sister. But she has her mom and her friends, she's going to Yale and that's what matters.

Her phone buzzes quietly inside her tote, and Quinn grabs it to read the text message she has just received. It's from Santana.

_Santana: Where the fuck are you, Q? I dropped by your house but no one is answering_

Snorting, Quinn unlocks the screen to reply. Santana is simply unbelievable.

_Quinn: That's why people call first, Santana  
>Santana: Whatever. Where are you, bitch?<br>Quinn: Not that it's any of your business, but I'm at Lima Bean with Rachel  
>Santana: Berry? Wtf?<br>Quinn: We've been friends for a while now, don't act so surprised  
>Santana: Yeah, she's kinda cool when she's not being a pain in the ass<em>

That's probably the closest to a compliment Rachel will ever get from Santana, Quinn muses with a grin.

_Quinn: Coming from you, I'm actually flattered on her behalf  
><em>_Santana: Anyway, couldn't you have gone to Breadstix so I could crash your date and actually enjoy it? What the hell am I going to do there?_

Seriously? Quinn huffs, glaring at the conversation box. Where is Brittany when she needs Santana off her back?

_Quinn: You can also not come here, since I don't recall inviting you. Go bother Britt, in whatever capacity you choose to interpret the word  
><em>_Santana: Wanky. Not even going to deny it's a date, huh?_

Quinn rolls her eyes, _hard_, at the juvenileness of Santana's teasing, but refrains from swearing out loud so not to startle the waitress, who stops by the table to place hers and Rachel's orders on it. Quinn thanks her politely before turning back to her phone.

_Quinn: What are you, twelve?  
><em>_Santana: No, but Berry could easily be mistaken for one  
><em>_Quinn: Jealous, Santana?  
><em>_Santana: Please, like I'd be jealous of the hobbit. Anyway, you're still talking to me, so I bet it's boring the hell out of you_

The last message actually makes Quinn laugh, because, yeah, last year she would have rather jumped into a sulfur acid pool than meeting Rachel Berry for anything. Time does change people. She looks up to find Rachel walking back inside the building and fires a reply to Santana.

_Quinn:_ _Rachel was talking to her dad on the phone, but she's coming back now so I'll just ignore you, bye.  
>Santana: Already whipped? Berry's good<em>

"I see this has turned into a mobile phone interlude," Rachel comments in amusement as Quinn drops her phone back inside her tote with a silent grunt.

"It's just Santana being a bitch. She went by my house and is mad at _me _for not being home when she didn't even bother calling first," Quinn provides with a shrug, sipping her latte with a trained blank expression.

"Oh, do you wish to meet her?" Rachel asks, looking slightly put out, and Quinn shakes her head immediately, disgust splattered upon her face.

"God, no. Britt's probably busy with something and Santana's bored. A bored Santana is the last thing I want in my _life_."

Also, Quinn is enjoying Rachel's company quite a lot, but she keeps that information to herself as she watches her friend giggle in response and happily drink her soy latte. "How's your father?" she asks in a deliberate change of subject ‒ and because she really wants to know more about Rachel's family.

"Oh, he's just being dramatic. He's in crisis between wallpaper colors, but he always ends up choosing gold and royal blue," Rachel replies with an exasperated eye roll.

"Sounds like someone I know," Quinn quips with a smirk, having witnessed Rachel mirror her Daddy's behavior way too many times. True to her nature, Rachel opens her mouth in outrage and places a hand over her heart, but there's a hint of jest in her actions.

"Don't mock me, Quinn Fabray! My endeavors are always perfectly valid," she counters with a frown, but obviously tries to smother a smile behind her paper cup, which makes Quinn laugh.

"I won't even argue with you," she announces slyly, thoroughly digging the playful teasing. It's so different from the insults that fly between her and Santana, which are always laced with a bit of true venom (even though Quinn does consider them real friends by now), and it's not something she can do with her other close friends. Joe doesn't have the sense of humor, Sam and Brittany don't have the wits, and Mercedes is too much of a diva to not take herself so seriously. But then again, Rachel Berry probably invented the word diva and yet there she is, openly bantering with Quinn. She's really something else.

Rachel growls with a dignified pose, but it's something more like a harmless little kitty. She couldn't be a mean girl if she tried.

They stay in a comfortable silence for a little while, enjoying each other's company and drinking their beverages. When Rachel begins to fiddle with her Star of David necklace, Quinn instinctively recollects those two moments she had previously documented and places her full attention on the girl in front of her. She already knows what's coming.

"How was- Finn's party?" Rachel asks quietly, staring at the table while her face acquires a stony aspect, as if she is making a physical effort not to collapse. She probably is.

"Rachel-" Quinn begins with a sigh, biting her lip nervously. She doesn't even know what to say; she just needs to say something, but Rachel is quick to interrupt her.

"I-I have Facebook, you know? It's not like I didn't see the pictures all over everyone's timelines. A-and I'm not mad. Finn wouldn't t-talk to me, but Kurt told me when he would be going. He also asked me not to show up," she explains with a breaking voice, but miraculously managing not to cry. Her eyes are still trained on the tabletop, though, and maybe that's what is keeping her ground.

"Is this why you called me? Is it because you didn't want to ask Kurt?" Quinn asks gently, without a tinge of accusation. She is just trying to understand, and Rachel probably gets it, because she finally looks at Quinn with a dead serious expression.

"No. This is not why I called you, Quinn. I'm sorry if my question made you uncomfortable. You don't have to answer," she replies truthfully, but her hands are pressed firmly against the wood and Quinn has an inkling she's not feeling half the strength she's trying to transmit.

"You're worried about _me_ being uncomfortable?" Quinn wonders, lifting one eyebrow in slight shock. "Rachel, I- Okay. The party was fun, even though we didn't drink alcohol because Puck's mom found his liquor stash and threw the whole thing away. Which was a good thing, because it was already heavy with meaning without Santana being the crying drunk. We sang him Coldplay's Strawberry Swing, everybody got real emotional, we all hugged it out and left before midnight because he was supposed to leave early the next morning anyway."

Quinn's words are blunt but her tone is soft, and her sharp hazel eyes are locked on Rachel's big, brown ones during the whole speech. They are completely unguarded, so Quinn is able to discern every feeling that flows through them ‒ surprise, understanding, apprehension, sadness and anguish, plastered upon her face all at once. The tears started flowing by the time she mentioned Santana, and Quinn doesn't understand why, but it isn't really important; all she wants right now is to find a way to make Rachel feel better. What do you say to a girl whose (ex-)boyfriend has just joined the freaking army?

"I see," Rachel manages in a whisper, and Quinn hands her a napkin to clean up her face. The moment Rachel picks it up and their fingers scantily touch, a déjà vu of their reversed positions at junior prom nearly knocks Quinn over, and she just _knows_ Rachel is thinking the same thing, because she smiles timidly and gives her a knowing look before their skins disconnect. It feels a bit like retribution ‒ like redemption. It's invigorating. "Thank you, Quinn."

"I'm sorry you couldn't be here to see him off, Rach," Quinn says, dropping her hand to squeeze Rachel's once in reassurance. Rachel breathes out slowly, calming down as she dabs her face delicately with the napkin.

"I realized it's better this way, for the both of us, I guess," she confesses in a trembled voice, but her face lets her certainty show. Then she adds with a sheepish smile, "But I did consider presenting him with a rendition of I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues."

Quinn laughs softly, because _of course_. "As sweet as it sounds, I don't know if Finn would have been able to appreciate Elton John's subtlety," she replies, smirking to convey her playful jab ‒ although that is just the truth.

"While that was a considerably mean notion, I get your point," Rachel says in a teary chuckle, and Quinn grins mischievously. "But I'm more impressed that it looks like you have just accidentally come out as a big Elton John fan."

A mild blush creeps up Quinn's face over the observation. Oh, God, she has just _sounded_ like Rachel, all defensive about music and meaningful songs, but the most disconcerting part is that Rachel has absolutely nailed it.

"I like his lyrics. And the melodies, of course. But I'm mostly drawn to the lyrics," she admits in an embarrassed tone, drinking her latte just so she has something to do with her hands. Give it to Rachel Berry to make her feel nervous about liking music. She's glad for the change of subject, anyway; she's aware that's exactly Rachel's intention (it takes a master of deflection to know one), but makes no move to stop her.

"Hmmm, you did sing I'm Still Standing with Artie, but I thought he had been the one to pick the song," Rachel ponders thoughtfully, and Quinn feels relieved that, for the first time, she doesn't look at her guiltily with memories of her in a wheelchair and the reasons behind them.

"I'm wounded," she mockingly pouts, but she probably deserves the misconception. It's not like she has ever showed endless commitment to the glee club, anyway. "I'm no music geek like you, but I- I sort of enjoy old songs in general."

Santana called Quinn an old lonely cat lady (when Brittany wasn't listening, of course) when she decided to sing Take My Breath Away at senior prom, but sue her if she would rather dance to Berlin than stupid One Direction, or start her day with Pat Benatar instead of Katy Perry. Old songs are captivating and there is nothing wrong with that ‒ except that she is blushing fiercely now.

"Now that I'm recalling some of your performances, I've come to the same conclusion," Rachel reflects, beaming at her realization, and Quinn has to suppress a groan when her expression turns into a teasing one as she goes on, "Well, I admit it does fit your whole classic style, but who would've guessed that Quinn Fabray is such a romantic girl?"

"I'm not!" Quinn denies quickly, but her voice reaches a squeaky pitch that doesn't really help her argument and Rachel raises her eyebrows with a smug look. So much for the cool and aloof ice queen that blatantly lied her way through high school. "Okay, maybe a little. I just...I don't know. I like it. I know it's old fashioned, but I like it," she mutters, looking away from Rachel with a slight frown.

How is it that Quinn is never able to lie or simply keep her cool around her? That girl always has her on her toes, that much she has always known. But what really intrigues Quinn is that, at some point during the last months, what used to piss her off actually became one of the things she admires most about Rachel. She challenges Quinn, mostly without realizing it, and forces her to reflect upon her actions, be them ruining Shelby's life or something as silly as lying about her secret girlish side.

"I think it's lovely and nothing to be ashamed of, but your secret is safe with me," Rachel concludes with a gentle smile - as if she can see the turmoil building inside Quinn -, and disarms her with embarrassing ease. "I just wish you would have sung more at glee club. I really like your voice."

"Oh, please," Quinn scoffs, rolling her eyes in disbelief. "My voice is sharp and I have, like, zero breath control."

"That's not true," Rachel denies, but Quinn merely quirks an eyebrow at her - because, _really_? - and she bites her lip before rephrasing, "I've always told you it's only a matter of vocal training. I could have easily assisted you with that, as we did when we sang our mash up. Which was formidable, by the way."

Quinn smiles a little at the memory because, yes, although they weren't anything close to friends back then, that song had turned out great. They really should have sang more.

"So it is true," she presses on in amusement, watching Rachel squirm between honesty and pleasantry. It's clearly very hard for her, but Quinn is touched that she seems to be trying not to hurt her feelings. Rachel has come a long way from the girl who would openly call all her peers out on their musical flaws. They've both really changed a lot.

"Okay, I did say your voice is occasionally sharp, and you may have a little trouble with breath control, but it got a lot better since then, and it is really all about training," Rachel replies quickly, but she relaxes and grins at the sound of Quinn's laugh. "But I mean it, Quinn. Your voice really is nice. I'll miss it."

"You're talking like you'll never see me again," Quinn remarks softly, feeling strangely giddy with their conversation, and Rachel's whole demeanor sharpens suddenly.

"Are you suggesting that we sing together in the future?" she asks with a glint of excitement in her eyes, and Quinn needs a few seconds to catch up with her train of thought.

"Uh- I don't know?" she replies meekly, frowning as she tries to decide. Well, she did think they should have sang more, but still - it's Rachel Berry, the most talented singer she's ever seen. On the other hand, it's Rachel Berry, her friend who wants to spend time with her doing something she loves. "I mean, I'd rather not perform to a crowd again, but we can sing just for fun sometimes, I guess. Privately, that is."

"Oh, Quinn! I would love to sing with you!" Rachel gushes happily, practically bouncing on her chair. "You know me, I would love to sing always, but I'd be incredibly happy to sing with you!"

Quinn ducks her head bashfully. "It's really not a big deal, Rach."

"Of course it is! It's going to be amazing!"

"You know, you're the NYADA student here. I'm just an aspiring Drama major," Quinn reminds her, chuckling at the well-known over the top reaction that Rachel has trademarked over the years.

"Don't bring yourself down, Quinn," Rachel admonishes with a playful slap on Quinn's arm. "I'm already thinking of a few songs we could sing together that would fit our vocal ranges perfectly."

"Oh, my God, I've created a monster," Quinn mutters, despite the fact she already finds herself looking forward to singing with Rachel.

Rachel doesn't seem to understand that, because she shyly deflates at her comment and looks down forlornly. "It's just that... I don't always get a chance to sing with someone just for the fun of it. I mean, Kurt and I have our moments of Broadway renditions, but it's always some sort of competition between us. I enjoy the challenge, of course, but I'm aware we're not doing it just because we're friends who love singing. Not to mention that, now that I'm going to NYADA and he's not, our exchanges are a little tense. And Finn..." Rachel vacillates at his name, tracing circles on the table. "Outside of Glee, our musical preferences never really matched, so often either one of us didn't like the song playing on the radio. It was always hard to find common ground, so we never really sang together much," she completes in an even sadder tone.

Quinn heart lurches painfully. The fact that Rachel only seems to count on Kurt and Finn when she has spent three years surrounded by singers isn't lost on her, and Rachel's loneliness crashes upon her with suffocating strength. Even the two boys are getting out of her reach - Finn's gone to army training, but Rachel has just made it very clear to Quinn that their relationship wasn't always fun and games (not that she hasn't always known that, anyway). And Kurt must have been having a hard time accepting Rachel is living her dream while he isn't - a feeling Quinn came so close to knowing last year and thank God she doesn't, so she can't exactly blame him.

Then, there is Rachel, turning to her, of all people, and trusting Quinn not to let her down as well, despite all their history. It still baffles her that Rachel is capable of confiding so much in her, but then again she has already done that, back when Finn so stupidly proposed. It's different now, though, and suddenly Rachel's excitement over karaokeing together is explained - she just wants her company. That notion fills Quinn with contentment and sense of purpose, so she hums cheerfully, tilting her head with a teasing expression.

"Well, as I said, I'm not pursuing a musical career, nor I intend to. And my musical preferences are pretty easy to accommodate, I guess," she asserts smoothly, nodding comically and making Rachel giggle. "Also, we're kind of friends, right?"

"Kind of," Rachel replies with a full-blown smile, evidently recognizing her own words from months ago. That smile soon disappears, though, replaced by a crease on her brow, and Quinn is afraid she'll resume talking about Finn, but then she announces in a sober tone, "Quinn, the reason why I called you here, apart from honestly wanting to see you, is because I wanted to talk to you in person about something."

Quinn flinches, her mind searching wildly for any subject that would require that serious expression on Rachel's face. She can't find any, so she licks her lower lip nervously and straightens up, replying, "Okay, go on."

She watches Rachel take a deep breath and open her mouth slowly, as if choosing carefully what to say. But nothing that had gone through Quinn's mind could have prepared her for, "I-I ran into Shelby in New York."

Shelby. The name echoes in the distance, taking Quinn away from reality. Rachel saw Shelby in New York. Shelby is back in New York. _Beth_ is back in New York. Quinn's head goes haywire and the world goes in and out of focus rapidly. She tries to convey that information, but it's proving to be too much for her numb brain, so she decides to just carry on because surely there's more to come.

"Oh," she manages, placing both hands on the table to keep her still. She exhales and tries to calm herself down before asking, "And how did it go?"

Rachel wraps a finger around a strand of her hair with a disappointed face. "Not very good at first. I was visiting the Gershwin Theatre with my dads two days ago when we bumped into her and-and Beth, so you can imagine how awkward it was," she says quietly, and Quinn winces when it fully hits her that Rachel is talking about her own mother as well as Beth's. It must have been hard for her for a whole other reason, yet there she is, sharing information with her. "But that's not why I'm approaching the subject. What I wanted to say was...I talked to her- about you."

That causes Quinn to freeze on spot, and her eyes locks onto Rachel's in absolute shock as she whispers in a weak voice, "She asked about me?"

"Not really," Rachel reveals in an apologetic tone, which makes Quinn all the more confused. "She actually asked if I would be able to handle the big change of lifestyle from Lima to New York all by myself. I said I'm sure can handle everything just fine, and that if I ever missed Lima, I could always visit you at Yale," she explains as she looks down, her cheeks tinting with a modest shade of red.

Quinn can't suppress the small smile that illuminates her heretofore troubled face, but the anxiety never leaves Rachel's expression, indicating that it isn't all there is to the subject. "And what did she say?" she asks carefully, feeling a twist in her stomach.

"She looked impressed, but didn't actually say anything," Rachel says, and Quinn is somewhat pleased with the indignant frown she wears as she goes on, "So I started talking about how much you have changed and how-how proud I am of you and that you deserved a second chance."

There is a pause, during which Rachel looks like she's going to pass out and Quinn just stares at her, heart thumping violently against her chest. She feels her eyes prickle with tears she already knows she won't be able to hold back. Rachel had defended her to her mother - to Beth's mother. She had asked Shelby to give her a second chance. Quinn can't even wrap her mind around to where that could lead her, but she knows she has to say something.

"Rach-"

"I'm sorry, Quinn, I really am," Rachel interrupts quickly in a desperate voice, her eyes shut as she grabs the edges of the table so hard her knuckles turn white. "It's just that I was there, with my dads, meeting my mother and your daughter and it was so uncomfortable. You shouldn't have to go through that with Beth."

"Rach-" Quinn tries again, tears rolling freely down her cheeks now, but Rachel beats her to it once again.

"But I crossed the line. What if you don't want to meet her anymore? I assumed you wanted to, but- oh, God, I absolutely crossed the line. Quinn, I'm so sorry."

Sighing, Quinn grips Rachel's arms until she opens her eyes and looks at her. "Rachel, calm down," she requests, breathing unevenly as she tries to express her chaotic thoughts in words. It takes a while, but eventually she manages, staring deeply at Rachel's eyes as tears cloud up her vision. "I-Thank you. I don't even know what to say to you. Thank you, really. I really appreciate it." Those words don't even begin to cover it, but it's a start.

"Really?" Rachel asks with a small smile, gradually unwinding as she takes Quinn's words in.

"Yeah. I-This is amazing. You were amazing," Quinn says before laughing hysterically for a while, and Rachel beams in response. "I didn't know if I could ever approach Shelby again after everything I've done, and almost done, to her. I thought she would never believe that I just want to watch Beth grow, but you talking to her-" she stops, realizing that, between her excitement and Rachel's despair, she never got Shelby's reaction, and her heart beating falters. "What- what was her answer?"

"She said she would think about it, so I gave her your number, just in case," Rachel replies, smiling sheepishly, and Quinn feels her breath hitch. "I know it's not appropriate, but I didn't want to upset my dads by getting her number instead. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh my God, Rachel! Thank you so much!" Quinn exclaims as her hands cover her mouth, feeling overwhelmed as the realization that she might have a chance to see Beth again lights up her entire being. "You have no idea how much this means to me," she adds, because not even Quinn herself knows how much this could mean. Rachel might have just changed her life. _Again_.

"I may have," Rachel says, offering Quinn a napkin, which she takes with a soft chuckle. It's almost an inside joke now. "Not exactly, but I believe I can relate, somehow."

Quinn sobers up immediately at that, swallowing her emotions. She needs to be there for Rachel in exchange. "Of course. Are you two in good terms?"

"Something like that," Rachel replies, pursing her lips in slight discontentment. "I don't think we'll ever have a proper mother-daughter relationship, but we're reaching a point where we can at least be friends."

Rachel's words about not wanting her life repeats itself strikes Quinn once more, and she feels her heart simultaneously constrict and swell. She doesn't want Beth to ever feel like that; she'll do everything she can to prevent it. She wishes Shelby would make the same effort with Rachel as well. "That's really good, Rach."

They exchange relaxed smiles for a few seconds, and then Rachel says in a sweet voice, "I hope Shelby calls you."

"I hope so too," Quinn replies, leaning back lazily and quirking an eyebrow at Rachel. "But right now I'm thinking about how I can ever repay you."

"It was nothing, Quinn," Rachel dismisses her with a wave, shaking her head. "You're my friend. Friends stand up for each other, right?" she remarks with a joyful grin that leaves her face the moment she sips her cold soy latte and shudders. The inspiration surges inside Quinn immediately and she smiles wickedly.

"Well, how about I stand up for you and make you a vegan dessert tomorrow?" she proposes, feeling very pleased with herself as Rachel frowns in confusion. "I'll have to Google it, sure, but I think I can manage it. You can come by my house after lunch and we'll watch a movie or something."

It obviously won't compare to maybe having her daughter in her life again, and it is probably a bit of a selfish proposal, since she really wants Rachel's company, but it's what she can do for now. Rachel has always wanted her friendship - it's time Quinn shows her (as well as herself) how great a friend she can be.

"That-that sounds really lovely, Quinn," Rachel replies slowly, clearly taken by surprise but also sounding appreciative. "I'd love to visit your house, but it's really not nec-"

"Then it's settled." Quinn cuts her, beating Rachel at her own game with a smug expression. "I'll have you know that I cook very well, so you won't be disappointed."

Rachel bubbly laughter comes as an anticipated payoff for all the research and store browsing Quinn will have to face. "I'm sure I won't," she says, radiating in contentment, and Quinn's heart is suddenly full with satisfaction. Their friendship is really something she has never experienced before, and it's exhilarating.

It's a little weird, Quinn thinks as they easily take the conversation to lighter subjects, but also the most natural thing in the world, that she just can't escape the feeling that Rachel Berry is already her best friend ‒ the best she has ever had.


	3. if truth is north, then i am true south

**N/A:** Yeah, sorry guys. I don't even have a good explanation other than pure writer's block (although I knew exactly how the chapter would play out; I just couldn't write it). Anyway, in this chapter we have Quinn interacting with people other than Rachel, and I want to clarify that this fanfiction won't be solely focused on Quinn and Rachel. However, this _is_ a Faberry fanfiction under Quinn's POV, so everything will eventually come back to Rachel (because we know that's, like, the summary of Quinn's life). I have a clear plot in my head, and I'll get there. Hope you guys like it!

* * *

><p><strong>3. if truth is north, then i am true south<strong>

_Some truths were sewn into our DNA  
><em>_Some truths unravel and fray  
><em>_Some truths keep growing taller than giants  
><em>_Some truths take our breath away_

_South - Sleeping at Last_

* * *

><p>"Something smells very good," a pleased voice echoes from the dining room and Quinn smiles without taking her eyes from her creation — a vegan chocolate pie she Googled last night — as Judy Fabray enters the kitchen, having just arrived for her lunch break.<p>

"Hi, mom," she replies softly, stirring the coconut cream along with the chocolate chips in calm concentration. It's a common exchange for them; since Quinn's classes have ended, she's been taking care of the house to spare her mother the extra work. She claims she's training for college, but both of them secretly know it's some kind of penitence for her behavior as of late. They don't talk about it, though, so her mother just agrees and makes remarks on how wonderfully her Quinnie will handle herself in New Haven. It's more comfortable like that.

"Hello, darling. What are you cooking?" Judy asks, coming into Quinn's peripheral sight to peek into the pot with a curious expression.

"Oh, nothing elaborate. It's just lasagna Bolognese and this pie," Quinn informs her with a bashful shrug as she points at the stove, where their lunch sits heating. Judy hums in approval and presses an affectionate hand over her daughter's shoulder.

"It looks delicious," she compliments with a proud grin, but raises a questioning eyebrow a second later, scrutinizing Quinn's peaceful expression. "And you look very content," she adds thoughtfully, sounding mildly impressed.

Quinn nods slowly with a bit of hesitancy. It's not like her mother's surprise is uncalled for; Quinn has been a dull presence in the house since about the second week into her last summer in Lima. She's been bored and cranky, roaming around the house aimlessly in search of anything to do. Her friends were always busy and she couldn't find a part-time job that didn't require standing all the time (she _can_ walk and even dance, alright, but it still hurts a lot if she does it for more than a few minutes; it kind of didn't sit well as far as job interviews were concerned), so she would just lay down all day after she's finished her chores. Of course that any change in her mood would be easily detected by her always perceptive mother.

The problem is Quinn doesn't know how Judy will react to the idea of her getting closer to Beth. She hadn't told her mother about Shelby's return to McKinley and Quinn's — well, crazy — stand against her last year, at least not until after the car accident (and it was an obviously toned down version of it). Quinn hadn't wanted her to pick up on how much she missed Beth, especially because she had already blown up her chance spectacularly. There was no point in hovering too much over the subject back then and open wounds that were barely healing.

Quinn suspects Judy knows, anyway, because if there's one thing they both undoubtedly share, is a history of failing their children. Right now, her mother is in the position of making amends that Quinn longs to be, so she decides to at least help Judy with her redemption and let her guard down a little.

"I got some very good news yesterday," she provides in an even tone, carefully avoiding eye contact by pouring the chocolate filling all over the pie crust on a tray beside the stove.

"Did you, honey?" Judy inquires indulgently, watching her every move with rapt attention. "And what are they?"

Chewing her lower lip for a moment, Quinn decides to just go with it, turning off the stove as she all but blurts out, "I might have a chance to see Beth again."

There's a good ten seconds in which both Fabray women are completely frozen, neither daring to even exhale so as not to hinder the sinking in. Quinn is already cursing herself and about to storm out to her room when Judy finally breaks the silence.

"Oh, Quinnie, that's wonderful!" she exclaims, taking her daughter's hands between her own to encourage eye contact. "Did you talk to Shelby?"

Quinn sighs in relief, feeling even lighter than she already was. Her mom was on her side. "No, but she has my number, and a friend asked her to give me a second chance," she explains, barely able to contain her excitement.

"A friend?"

"Rachel Berry," Quinn supplies easily, turning back to her cooking. While Quinn has never talked much to her mother about her school life, her tentative friendship with Rachel kind of became a topic after the accident. "She's her daughter, remember?"

"Rachel Berry," Judy repeats slowly, fishing her memory. "Finn's fiancée."

Quinn huffs impatiently, forcefully spreading the filling over the crust. Of course, _that's _how her mother would remember Rachel. "They've broken up," she hisses with an eye roll before adding in a protective tone, "And we're friends now, I've told you."

"I know, honey. I was just checking," her mother replies diplomatically and Quinn barely suppresses a smile. Such exchange would have never happened a few years ago. By this moment back then, Quinn should've been preparing herself for _a lot _of Acts of Contrition for talking back to a parent. But they're not under Russell's hypocrite watch anymore, so, by trial and error, they're learning to be closer and more laid back with each other.

"Anyway, the point is I might have the opportunity to reconnect with Beth, and I'm really looking forward to it," Quinn stresses with a wide smile, managing to keep herself from embarrassingly bouncing in front of her mother.

"Of course, Quinnie. I'm so happy for you," Judy gushes with a cheerful expression of her own before uncharacteristically (albeit briefly) hugging her daughter. "And I'm very grateful for what Rachel has done. It was very kind of her."

"Yes, it was," Quinn agrees, evoking the memory of Rachel's rambling with a chuckle. "Rachel is coming over after lunch, by the way. That's why I'm baking this pie, as a thank you gift of sorts. You could stick around a bit before heading back to work to meet her."

"Oh, that would be nice. But we actually already know each other."

The cautious tone her mother applies to her voice alarms Quinn more than the words itself. "What do you mean?"

When Judy's eyes drop to the ground, Quinn feels her stomach going down as well. "She- She came to talk to me at the hospital. She was very shaken, and wouldn't stop apologizing until Finn dragged her away," she mutters, twisting her hands in a nervous tick.

"I didn't know that," Quinn whispers, frowning as she tries to recall any images of Rachel visiting her at the hospital. She knows there had been visitors, but she'd been unconscious most of the time. The thought of Rachel taking her time to visit Quinn makes her feel warm inside.

Judy's hesitant expression turns into a grimace; those memories obviously still take a toll on her. "I didn't understand it at first, but then Santana explained she was the one who texted you before-"

Quinn shakes her head vigorously until she finally interrupts her mother. "I was the one who texted back. It's not her fault, mom," she says categorically, because she's spent too much time blaming everybody else for her own mistakes. It's about time she owns them.

"I know that, sweetie. I don't blame her. And I'm happy you two got over it so gracefully," Judy assures her with an amenable smile, looking down at Quinn and stroking her face kindly. "You seem very fond of her, even with all the bad blood between you two."

"We've come a long way, but now we're finally getting along," Quinn explains, beaming despite herself. "She's actually a great person."

Judy nods thoughtfully, seeming satisfied with the answer. "I'll be delighted to know her properly. She has a beautiful singing voice, from what I recall from your performances."

"She really has. She's actually going to college in New York so she can perform on Broadway."

"Is she? That's amazing!" Judy exclaims, tenderly regarding Quinn's content face. "And that you'll be able to be rather close to each other, too. It will be good for you to have such a good friend around, Quinnie."

Quinn ducks her head in contempt pleasure, because yes, she could really use good company, and Rachel keeps proving herself to be a great one. Those tickets will surely come in handy. "Yeah, I know. Well, the lasagna is almost ready, and I just have to finish this and put it on the fridge. Could you set up the table, please?"

"Sure thing, darling."

* * *

><p>The doorbell rings and Quinn nearly darts to the door, anticipation tickling her insides. It's weird; she has never been this excited about having anyone over — but then, it's not like she's actually used to having people over. Apart from Santana and Brittany, not a lot of people can say they have consistently frequented her house, not even in her popular girl days. Inviting her boyfriends seemed more like an obligation than something she actually wanted to do, and it wasn't like they had ever put much thought in the gesture apart from the physical perks of it, anyway.<p>

For Quinn, there is something about the intimacy of it all; like she's sharing too much of herself. Having people to see the inside of her house is like offering a sneak peek of her true self, behind the masks she has carefully crafted to protect it. There are clues about her bringing up, her past, and Quinn is afraid not even the perfectly washed out walls could hide her flaws. Even after her dad went away and Quinn came back home, she has been wary of letting people in. That house represents some of the worst of her life, and it's not something she's prone to disclose.

Until now, at least, because Quinn is trying to change. She's trying to be proud of who she is despite of all the things she's done. Opening her front door is another step to the new Quinn, and who better to be waiting by the doorstep than the person who has always envisioned her?

With that soothing thought, Quinn opens the door and is met with a blinding smile from Rachel. "Hey, punctual," she greets in a teasing tone, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

"Hello, Quinn. I'm sorry for my perfect schedule discipline," Rachel snaps back with a smirk, tilting her head in amusement. "I'll try to refrain myself in the future."

Quinn rolls her eyes and leans against the doorframe. "Oh, please, like you could."

They playfully stare at each other with narrowed eyes for a few seconds, but the sound of steps behind Quinn breaks off their silent banter even before Judy chimes in, "Quinnie? Aren't you going to invite your friend inside?"

Straightening up immediately, Quinn steps aside and bashfully gestures Rachel to walk in. "Oh, of course, I'm sorry. Come in, Rach."

They cross the foyer into the living room and Rachel's smile falters for the first time as she regards Quinn's mother hesitantly. "Good afternoon, Ms. Fabray."

Her tone is uncertain, but all is forgotten when Judy beams at the appropriate treatment usage.

"Good afternoon, Rachel. Please, call me Judy," she replies in her usual polite voice, symbolically waving their previous rendezvous off.

"You have a beautiful house, Judy," Rachel praises, sounding more than looking relieved.

Judy actually laughs at that. "Thank you, you're very polite. I already like you better than Santana."

Quinn smirks, rolling her eyes at her mother, even though she hasn't the heart to judge her. Rachel is probably the only person Quinn has ever invited inside that house that is actually acquainted with proper etiquette.

Rachel contorts her lips, choosing her next words carefully. "Well, Santana can be quite confrontational, but she has a good heart."

"That's Rachel, mom. She can see the good in everyone," Quinn chimes in with a chuckle, because it's nothing but the truth, and her very presence in that house is proof of that.

"And that's an excellent trait to have."

Rachel mirrors the smile Judy aims at her. "Thank you, Judy. I see Quinn has taken her kindness from you."

Both Fabray women blush and duck their heads simultaneously — it would be hilarious if Quinn wasn't so embarrassed. Kind is not exactly the go to adjective to be applied to anyone with their last name. "You do have a charming way with words, young lady," Judy remarks, looking absolutely delighted. "But now I must ask you to excuse me. I need to head to work. I look forward to seeing you more often, Rachel."

Rachel grins and nods, seemingly oblivious to the small commotion she has just caused. "Likewise, Judy. Have an excellent day of work."

"And you two have a lovely time."

Judy offers them one last smile and walks out of the house, leaving the girls to themselves.

"I have to hand it to you," Quinn declares as she sits and pats the couch, gesturing Rachel to follow her lead. "You managed to get my mom to adore you in, like, thirty seconds."

"She's really nice," Rachel replies, giggling as she settles beside Quinn. "I've always wondered what it was like- never mind," her eyes widen and she averts her eyes to her hands nervously. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business."

They both freeze for a second, but ultimately Quinn shakes her head, dismissing the apology. One step at a time, she can do it. "Well, it was weird for a long time. I mean, it was kind of hard to just smile and pretend she wasn't here when I was kicked out, you know," she admits with a bitter smile, worrying her lower lip and straightening the hem of her coral dress. It's hardly the whole truth, but it's an opening nonetheless.

Rachel simply nods with a sober expression. "I think it's completely understandable. You had strong reasons to be wary."

Quinn smiles gratefully, and an unexpected weight leaves her shoulders. "Yeah, it- it took a while." she pauses and purses her lips — it took Quinn almost_ dying_, but she's not ready to go there yet, especially with Rachel. "But we finally talked it out, and now we're good."

"I'm happy for you, Quinn," Rachel replies with an honest grin.

Her sunny expression dimmers as she takes a cushion and stares distractedly at it. Quinn holds out a heavy sigh; maybe she should name that look _Finn Freaking Hudson_, because sure as rain, Rachel mumbles, "Kurt called me yesterday. He told me- he said Finn sent him an email."

"Oh," is all Quinn allows herself to say. There are some other expletives on her mind, though.

"He said he's okay, and that he decided not to contact me unless we meet in person," Rachel explains abjectly, and her voice falters at the end.

That picks Quinn's interest. "What?"

"He doesn't want to talk to me," Rachel mutters, defeat taking over her face.

Her expression, more than her words, stirs Quinn's temper toward Finn's behavior. She's sick of his little game of hot and cold — one day he wants to marry the girl, and on the other he doesn't even want to talk to her. But pitching war against the boy wouldn't make Rachel feel better, so she instantly redirects her strategy. "No, Rach. While I don't think it's right that he made that decision by himself, I think he's giving you space." In some warped notion that gives Rachel no choice on the matter, but that's just how Finn works.

Rachel bows her head in agreement, but it takes a while until she responds with words.

"I was really mad at him when he took me to the train station," she starts quietly, fiddling with a loose thread on the cushion, and Quinn watches her intently. "He really blindsided me, you know, and I wished we could have discussed this properly. But then- then I thought that maybe it was for the best. I- I think I needed the shockwave to pull away from him."

It's only when Rachel finishes her admission that Quinn realizes she had been holding her breath all along. Those words are new, and Rachel looks sure enough, but Quinn still needs to be certain — why, she doesn't really know. "And do you feel pulled away from him?"

"I-I've given it a lot of thought," Rachel says in guise of an answer, and Quinn (mostly) patiently waits for her to elaborate. "I still love him, obviously, but- I understand what he did and why he did it. It's what you were trying to make me see, Quinn," she concedes, brown eyes searching for assuagement on Quinn's blank expression. Her response is limited to raising her eyebrows in surprise, though, even as her breath discreetly hitches. It's a good enough reaction to Rachel, as she goes on, "I couldn't be with him and embrace my future all at once, but I was never going to admit to it and let go of something I've worked so hard for so long. So he did it for me. I'm actually grateful that he's indirectly sent me this message through Kurt, because now I know where we stand. Now I can focus on myself, on what I want, and leave the thinking about him to the future."

It's boarding unreasonable, really, how much relief Quinn feels by Rachel's speech, but she finds her lips quirking up against her will. She figures that's what happens when a friend listens to your advice. Or maybe it's because _Rachel_ is finally understanding what Quinn has been trying to tell her for years, even back when she wanted to hate every bit of her for being so freaking talented and so tenaciously obtuse. "I'm really proud of you, Rach," she says, because Rachel needs to know.

"Thank you," Rachel answers with a timid smile. "I'm sorry for reacting so badly to your advice, Quinn."

Quinn shrugs and her smile deepens. "It's okay. I knew you wouldn't let go, but I- I figured I should be honest with you, just like you were with me about Shelby and Beth," she reveals, taking her eyes off of Rachel's for a heartbeat or two before picking up. "I couldn't watch you give up on your dreams just like that and do nothing about it."

"Looks like everyone else knows me better than myself," Rachel drawls wryly.

"No, I think you know yourself pretty well. It's just that sometimes you need to be reminded to believe in yourself too," Quinn assures her with a slight smirk. "Which is funny, because you're also the most confident person I know."

Rachel angles her head, gauging Quinn with a curious look, but her features soften when she says, "You're really sweet, Quinn."

Quinn looks away immediately, feeling warm and fuzzy and just weird. She's really not used to having anyone finding good things about her. She has Joe, and sometimes Sam, but somehow it's not the same. Well, she had tried to destroy Rachel's life in the past, so perhaps that's the reason she feels so- happy? That someone who should hate her makes an effort to search for the best in her? "You know, you're about the only person in the whole world who thinks that, so maybe you should reconsider it," she mutters as she blushes deeply.

"Or maybe you should try showing this side of you more," Rachel snaps bemusedly, grinning in sheer satisfaction. "Although I must confess I cherish the fact that I'm privy to the sight of the true Quinn Fabray."

Quinn still can't seem to meet Rachel's eyes, but her heartbeat quickens at those words, because Rachel has come very close to the mark. She purses her lip, feeling sad all of sudden, and decides that someday she'll tell Rachel about Lucy and about how being a nice girl had nearly shredded her to pieces.

But not today, and not so soon. That can of worms is better off safely shut for a while longer.

"Yeah, I'll give it a thought," Quinn abides, shaking the moment off as she gets up. "Now, will we eat that pie or what?"

* * *

><p>It's the beginning of August and Quinn is still nervous around her mobile phone — only now there's a whole new reason. It's been three weeks since Rachel gave her number to Shelby, but no matter how many times she looks at it and picks it up to check it, there are still no calls from any unknown numbers. The little ball of hope Quinn has allowed herself to feed is quickly dwindling, and still she can't bring herself to be angry at Shelby for doing so. They really hadn't parted on the best of terms, seeing as Shelby had disappeared shortly after the New Directions presentation at Sectionals, thus not giving Quinn time to apologize for her behavior. Shelby still thinks the worst of her, and clearly Rachel's words, however kind and full of the best intentions, hasn't been enough to break her resolve.<p>

Releasing a shaky breath, Quinn recalls the first (kind of) conversation she had with Shelby last year, when she explained her reasons behind seeking Quinn and Puck out. Would Quinn spend the rest of her life as Shelby has spent half of hers, looking for a little blonde with hazel eyes everywhere she went, wondering if she is looking right at Beth? Quinn shakes her head as she reminds herself once more she has made the right decision. Regardless of her own role in Beth's life, she knows her daughter is better off with Shelby. She has already faced the possibility of never seeing Beth again twice in the past; she can do it once again.

Sighing, Quinn faces her mirror and starts applying foundation on her face. Today is both Mercedes and Puck's farewell party, as they have decided to make the trip to Los Angeles together so to be able to count on each other when they get there. Quinn hasn't told Puck about Shelby and asked Rachel to keep it to themselves as well — he's in a good place right now, it wouldn't be fair to fill him with conflicting feelings about his daughter (and Shelby, Quinn thinks with a disgusted eye roll) at such a pivotal point of his life.

By now, all she has to worry about is not getting too drunk at the party (it's still Puck, and she's not at all interested in having a goodbye hook up) and actually having a good time with her friends. Heavy thoughts don't have place tonight.

She hears her mother's car and the sound of someone coming up the stairs but thinks nothing of it, continuing her makeup ritual meticulously. It's either Rachel or Santana, anyway, since they had agreed to meet up at her house before picking up Brittany, who lives closer to Puck's house. Rachel had insisted on being the designated driver — it's been almost a month since their first hang out, but she still keeps Quinn from driving if she can help it —, and Santana weaseled her way into the carpooling soon after.

Quinn smiles, thinking about her ever-growing friendship with Rachel. They have seen each other these past few days more than Quinn has seen any of her other friends since summer has begun. Sometimes for coffee, or a few trips to the mall, but mostly they just hang out at either one's place to watch TV (and no, Rachel's movie collection doesn't limit itself on musicals). They've even had one sleepover in which they binge-watched the first season of Friends and goofed around about having everyone together in New York after they all finish college and being their own sitcom. Quinn had never laughed so hard in her life. They also had serious conversations, like the future and what they wanted to do about it (Rachel deliberately avoided talking about Finn's place in her life, and Quinn was more than fine with that), or things they liked to do when they were kids — school is still a locked topic, though. That point notwithstanding, it is nice having someone with whom she can have all kinds of conversations.

There's a strong knock on the door, and Quinn has a good idea of who it might be. "Come in," she answers distractedly, mind focused on not smearing the mascara.

"Hey, bitch," a harsh voice greets her and Quinn smirks at Santana's reflection on the mirror.

"You're early," she remarks with a slight frown, but her friend merely shrugs.

"Yeah, my mom was driving to my gran, so she dropped me here."

Quinn winces at the mention of Santana's grandmother and decides to change the subject. "So, when are we having your going away party?" she asks in an amiable tone.

Santana is silent for a few seconds, pursing her lips as if she's making a decision. "I'm not going," she finally says, averting her eyes to the window. Quinn turns to face her so fast her neck nearly cracks.

"What?" she all but screams, completely blindsided by the news. Santana has a scholarship. A full scholarship. That isn't the kind of thing to dismiss so easily, and yet that is what it seems to be happening. That doesn't make sense, but then it's not like Quinn had spent much thought on whatever future Santana had in mind in the first place. She feels slightly guilty for that, even though Santana had never shown much interest in any college talk whatsoever.

Santana crosses her arms in a self-protective stance before her eyes finally meets Quinn's, bravado taking over her features. "I don't want to live my life cheering sweaty dudes up for some stupid competition, okay? I was in the Cheerios for the rep and you know it," she hisses, shifting uncomfortably on her feet.

Quinn tilts her head, regarding her friend carefully. If there is one thing she can understand, is doing something for appearances' sake, but Quinn has a feeling that's only the tip of the iceberg. She decides to defuse the tension instead of confronting Santana; the thing about their "frenmity" is that they know exactly which cards must be played to get the right answers from each other. They are an endless round of poker. "I thought it was for the access to the girl's locker room."

Straight flash. Santana chuckles and uncrosses her arms, shoving Quinn, who openly laughs in response. "Bitch. Yeah, that too."

They remain in comfortable silence and Santana lazily lounges on her bed, eyes trained on the ceiling. Quinn sits primly on her desk chair, trying for her most neutral tone as she asks, "So what now?"

Santana shrugs again, and Quinn has to stop herself from huffing in frustration. It's like looking at herself from a few months ago. "I'll stay here, wait for Britt to finish high school, then we'll leave together to somewhere."

Seconds go by and Quinn has yet to display any reaction. Santana is still staring at the ceiling with a blank expression, as if she hasn't just dropped a bomb inside the room. "Are you serious?" she manages to whisper, too shocked to make a sound.

"Yeah," Santana replies immediately, rolling on the bed and turning her back on Quinn. This is clearly a sore subject to her, and sharing is completely out of her element. Quinn appreciates her efforts all the better for that. "I don't wanna leave Britt, that's the only thing I know."

Quinn's eyebrows shoot up at the revelation. It's not much of a surprise, since Brittany is pretty much (and quite ironically) the only person who can hold Santana down to earth, but she never thought she'd ever hear her admit to it. It's kind of worrying, nonetheless, but Quinn knows better than to start a self-righteous speech with Santana of all people, so she keeps it simple and straight to the point. "Are you sure? Because I know you love Brittany, but I don't think you really want to stay here."

Santana sighs, then proceeds to speak in a tired tone Quinn has never heard before, "I don't. But I don't know what I want besides that yet," she confesses, and Quinn frowns sadly at seeing the fiercest person she knows looking so distressed. "I thought about going to New York to try my luck, but I can do that next year, too. Britt doesn't want to stay here, anyway, so we're on the same page. I can rock wherever and whenever I want, as long as she's rocking with me."

For the briefest of seconds, Quinn contemplates berating Santana for being so completely irrational. What is it that everybody thinks it's okay to postpone their futures for their high school sweethearts' sakes? She bites her lower lip and take a second look at Santana's curled-up figure on the mattress. Quinn remembers when she began to notice her first and second lieutenants shared something special, back on sophomore year. Santana was bitter and evil and angry, but somehow Brittany got in touch with the soft side of her shell. They have struggled a lot for that, and Santana might still be a bitch, anyway, but Quinn now gets to see her heart too; it's no wonder she's is so wary of letting it go. Still, Quinn wonders if it's worth the risk of relinquishing a chance that has pretty much been handed to her. It's too much of a shot in the dark for her to deem it safe.

Her contemplating takes too long, as it seems, because Santana suddenly sits up and glares at Quinn, who almost smiles in relief that she hasn't lost her fiery spirit. Santana Lopez makes her decisions and never accepts them being held against her.

"I'm not giving up, Quinn," Santana says, stressing every word as if she had been inside Quinn's head — or maybe she's fighting her own thoughts as well. "I want to get the hell out of here as much as you do. I just need to figure out what I want. I'll never settle for Lima, I just-"

"You really love her, don't you?" Quinn muses, watching as a rare giddy grin splatters upon her friend's face.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Santana assures her with a goofy expression so ridiculous that, had the moment not been so meaningful for their friendship, Quinn would surely give her hell for it.

Instead, she gazes at Santana with an easy smile. "Well, I don't even have the energy to imagine standing this freaking city for another year," she declares with a chuckle that is mirrored by the other girl. "But I know that you're Santana freaking Lopez, so you'll be fine. Just don't forget that the world is waiting for you to burn a hole on it, okay?"

Santana actually cackles at that, throwing her head back and laying on the bed again. "I won't, Q, don't worry. I'm gonna fucking rule the world."

They both laugh for a little while, relishing the clear shift in their dynamics, then an easy silence follows. Santana picks up the prom picture over Quinn's nightstand and focus on it with a pensive expression.

Quinn reclines on her chair, quietly going over their conversation. She still can't quite understand why would anybody put their lives on hold solely for another person. The mere possibility of losing the chance for leaving Lima for good, something she had struggled to find after years of hurting, is enough to make her anxious. There was a time when she thought all she deserved was a life as a real estate agent trapped in a loveless marriage with a tire shop owner. She'll fight tooth and nail to never go back to that.

Loveless. The word reverberates inside her head as Quinn stares at Santana's shiny eyes looking at Brittany's huge smile on the picture. Maybe that's the reason why she can't relate to Santana or even Rachel. Maybe Quinn has never really loved anyone. Does love means sacrificing your own well-being to make another person happy? Is that what it's supposed to be about? Is that what Shelby had tried to tell her? That Quinn could only understand her if she truly loved Beth?

She has always thought that being in love was as stupid as it was counterproductive. And that she couldn't be in love, anyway, because she couldn't bring herself to be selfless. Even as she let Beth go, there was always a second-guessing hitting the back of her head. But if she's going to be honest with herself, as painful as it looks (and is), she wants that. She wants to love someone so much that the thought of staying away is too painful to handle. She wants to be so loved she nearly bursts with happiness. She wants someone who is not intimidated by her fortress heart and instead finds a way into it.

"You know," Santana breaks her line of thought abruptly, her eyes scrutinizing the exultant faces of herself, Brittany, Quinn and Rachel on the photo one last time before gazing at present-Quinn with a ghost of a smirk on her face. "It's funny how when Berry decided to shack up with Finndecent, you nearly froze hell over to change her mind."

That gives Quinn pause, and she looks at Santana with surprise all over her face. "Because she has always dreamt of Broadway. It's completely different," she explains slowly even as her heart inexplicably pounds. It's simple enough; Santana doesn't know what she wants with her life, and Rachel has wanted Broadway since she could pronounce it. Brittany is good for Santana. Finn sucks the light out of Rachel. No rocket science.

Santana's smirk only deepens at that, and Quinn realizes she has somehow walked right into a trap. "And you've always cared so much about her dreams, haven't you?" she singsongs in a vicious tone.

Quinn narrows her eyes and sets her jaw. Where is Santana hoping to get at? Why is she questioning Quinn's motivation behind being against Rachel's dumbass marriage? Quinn huffs, but when she speaks, her voice is as controlled as ever. "She'd helped me before, and we became friends. I care about my friends." Besides, it was only fair to repay the favor, as she had told Rachel weeks ago.

Santana hums and gets up, stalking toward Quinn like a cat that's cornered it's dinner. "I know you do," she says in a deliberate condescending tone that makes Quinn seethe with rage. "Still, I don't see you giving me some sappy-gay speech about leaving the past or being a shiny star. Not to mention giving up your beloved crown so you could do some confidence boosting election rigging."

Everything stills, because suddenly Quinn knows exactly where Santana is getting at. The beating of her heart gets so much stronger that the floor nearly quakes below her. She doesn't even know what has her so paralyzed, because that is absolutely ridiculous. Santana can't possibly be suggesting- no. Quinn tries to scoff and brush it off, but soon finds out she's lost control of her muscles. Santana, on the other hand, looks cockier by the second.

The doorbell rings, mercifully injecting some adrenaline to make Quinn move. She glares at Santana, not dignifying her stupid assumptions with a response as she turns on her back and marches to the door to meet Rachel. Internally, she doesn't know if she's relieved that Rachel has unintentionally interrupted them, or terrified for what Santana might do to push Quinn's buttons further.

"Saved by the Berry," Santana barks, sounding way too pleased with herself.

Quinn whips her head back so quickly that Santana actually recoils in surprise. Satisfied with the reaction, she musters her deadliest tone when she growls, "You know it's different."

But Santana recovers even faster, grinning widely and stage whispering mischievously when Quinn walks out of the room, "That's _exactly_ what I'm saying."

Quinn stomps all the way down the stairs while Santana merrily hums behind her. She's being nonsensical, Quinn repeats in a mantra. Santana just can't grab the concept of a healthy friendship, because all she knows is either how to be a pain in the ass or to bed her friends. But Quinn is not about that. Her friendship with Rachel is different, and yes, they are close, and sure, Quinn genuinely cares about her, but that's just it. Santana's gibberish be damned.

Her scowl disappears the moment she turns the knob and Santana rolls her eyes. Rachel's beaming face is enough to appease her lingering irritation, and Quinn relaxes. She has favored a silk white blouse with a black skirt and, well, yes, she does look cute.

Quinn shakes her head slightly and smiles. "Hey, Rach. Come in, I'll just grab my purse."

"Okay, take your time," Rachel says as she walks into the foyer, and Quinn dashes to the living room so as to not leave her alone with Santana for too long.

"Hey, Berry," she hears Santana's casual greet and tenses, picking up her purse and her keys and nearly jogging back to join her friends.

"Hello, Santana, how are you?" Rachel inquires politely as Quinn slides beside her.

"Just peachy. How are the big plans for New York?" Santana asks idly, then smirks at the way Quinn's shoulders drop in relief.

Rachel flashes her a Broadway smile. "Perfect, thank you for asking. I've already visited the NYADA dorms, and I'm so excited that most rooms face the rising s-"

"Yeah, I'm happy for you," Santana cuts in, rolling her eyes. "Didn't think you'd be going for the dorms, though. Unless you're trying to murder all your opponents in their sleep."

"Santana," Quinn hisses angrily.

"What? She did send the girl to a crack house," Santana replies with a shrug.

"_Deactivated_ crack house, and I regret that very much," Rachel corrects her tersely, but doesn't seem really bothered by the jab. Quinn is impressed. "Anyway, my dads offered to pay for a place of my own for a while, since I'm used to having my own suite. But I'd rather have the complete college experience"

"Complete with beer pong and keg stand? 'Cause, you know, if you're going for it, better go all the way," Santana digs lowly, her eyebrows wiggling teasingly as she throws an arm over Rachel's shoulders.

"Santana," Quinn growls before she can hold herself.

Santana scoffs at her, raising an eyebrow in defiance. "Oh, chill, Barbie Q. Berry needs to loosen up. Maybe she'll even find some hot stud to _practice_ with her."

Quinn's anger flares at that, and she grits her teeth. Santana is clearly trying to make her jealous, but that's so not the point. Rachel is not that kind of girl; Quinn is simply protecting her from Santana's drivel. It takes every ounce of her to not snap, but she manages. Barely.

Rachel flushes slightly, but stands her ground once again, encouraged by Santana's brand of sympathy. "I don't know about that, but maybe I'll like NYADA parties, who knows?"

Santana guffaws, letting go of Rachel and patting an irritated Quinn on the shoulder. "See, Q, Berry's all for new experiences. You should try that, too," she concludes with a wicked smirk.

Quinn curses herself for the blush she knows is tinting her cheeks. She has to admit she has been expecting worse from Santana, though. "Hilarious. Now, why don't we pick Britt and go to the party to say goodbye to our friends?"

Santana, thank God, drops the issue after that, and they head to the party after picking Brittany up on the way. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean her words leave Quinn's head for even a second, and that's enough to almost drive her insane. She then decides not to drink at all. Just to be safe. God knows her head is full enough without the recklessness provided by the alcohol.

It doesn't help that Rachel never strays from her for too long, either. They talk to their other friends, but it's always in small circles so the both of them can join the conversation. Quinn notices the odd looks from her fellow glee clubbers, but brushes them off easily. Yeah, maybe she has taken too long to notice what a great person Rachel is, but she's there now. And that's definitely not the best line of thought to thread at the moment. That's it, Santana _is_ the devil.

And speaking of, there she is, Brittany in tow, as soon as Rachel leaves to refill their beverages. "Hey, Q, wanna hang out by the pool at Britt's tomorrow?"

Quinn suppresses the glare she very much wants to throw at her. She can't give Santana the satisfaction to know her bomb has successfully been planted. "Sorry, I can't."

Santana frowns. "Why the hell not? Don't tell me you're gonna spend all day in church, Mother Teresa."

"No. It's because I'm hanging out with Rachel," Quinn replies nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow at Santana to prove she's not affected at all. Because that's things friends do. Friends hang out and there's nothing wrong with that.

"Are you talking about me?" Rachel chimes in, coming back with two glasses of juice. Quinn takes hers gratefully, but feels a spark through her body when their fingers briefly touch. What is even going on?

"Oh, no, come on, you're blowing me off for Berry again?" Santana grumbles, although her eyes are full of mirth.

"I didn't blow you off since we never planned anything, Santana. You just show up when you're bored," Quinn retorts icily. It's true; Santana always makes an appearance when Quinn is otherwise occupied. And it's not always with Rachel, anyway; once she was with her mother. She doesn't see Rachel _that_ often.

But Rachel, naïve Rachel, decides to make amends. "Well, Santana, if you'd like to spend the afternoon with us, you and Brittany are more than welcome at my house."

Quinn wants to die, but before she can say anything to avoid the impending doom, Brittany bounces happily beside her.

"Awesome! Can we go, San? Rachel's house is so full of unicorns."

Santana snorts, but knows better than to joke about it in front of her girlfriend. "Okay, Berry, we'll go."

Pure dread fills Quinn up as her eyes meets Santana's. She's one step from begging her not to say anything about their talk — not because it's true (it isn't!), but because she can't have Rachel second guessing their friendship.

"Yay! Do you have a pool, Rach?" Brittany asks, grinning madly.

Rachel's polite smile turns uncertain. "I- I do. I don't use it often, but we can open it."

Santana smiles like Christmas has been brought forward and she deliberately looks at Quinn when she says, "Oh, a pool? Now _that_ will be interesting."

Quinn had promised herself she would never do that again after she dyed her hair back to blond and kissed her punk phase goodbye, but damn if she doesn't want to flip Santana the bird right now. What happens, however, is that her mind is now wandering around the thought of — _what?_ — Rachel in a bathing suit. No. No. No, no, no.

God takes pity on her soon enough, though, because Kurt cuts off her absurd images by walking in on them with a curious look. "What's the buzz, ladies?"

"Oh, we're going to Rachel's house tomorrow to look for unicorns and swim in her pool!" Brittany answers enthusiastically.

"Excuse me? I hope you were planning on inviting me, Rachel Barbra Berry!" Kurt shrieks, dramatically placing a hand on his hip. Quinn and Santana roll their eyes in sync at the small tantrum.

Rachel looks around anxiously. "Well, the original plan was having only Quinn over-"

Kurt huffs and taps his foot on the floor impishly. "What? Again? We've only met for coffee once a week since you came back!"

Santana snickers; Quinn ignores her, but her stomach contorts unpleasantly. Maybe God hadn't taken pity on her at all.

Rachel twists her hands timidly. She had told Quinn she has been purposefully avoiding Kurt since she came back, both because they can't exactly talk about NYADA yet, and because Rachel is trying not to cave and ask about Finn. And forgive Quinn if she doesn't want Rachel to talk about Finn ever again. It's annoying and it's bad for Rachel.

"Okay, Kurt, you and Blaine are also invited to spend the afternoon at my house tomorrow," Rachel finally says, looking every bit uncomfortable. "Are we good now?"

Kurt sniffs indignantly. "Fine, I'll let it pass. Although I still can't see what is it that you two have become all twinsies all of sudden," he adds begrudgingly, eyeing them with suspicion.

"Well, I'll have you know that our friendship has been going on for the better part of a year now. Over the summer we decided to hang out more often, and it's been really fun," Rachel responds nervously, looking at Quinn for reassurance. Quinn can't help but smile and nod her agreement.

Santana chuckles, studying the exchange with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah, take away the mountain troll and poof, instant BFFs."

Kurt and Quinn simultaneously hold their breaths, but Rachel just laughs, and it's all that keeps Quinn from slapping Santana. Instead, she just mocks her for making such a nerdy Harry Potter joke, and smirks when Santana flashes her middle finger. Payback.

At some point of the night, Santana and Brittany simply disappear — Quinn doesn't even want to know —, but the rest of the glee club gather around for a few speeches and a lot of songs. It's almost one in the morning when Puck decides to sing Billy Joel's For The Longest Time and Rachel happily joins him for a very silly (but impressive) Jew duet. Quinn cringes when they hug for a little too long afterwards, then berates herself for thinking anything of it. It's really not her place.

Quinn looks down at her glass with a frown. She likes boys — given, she's not interested in any at the moment, but she has dated Finn (twice!), Puck and Sam. She had been more or less invested on them; she had even planned a future with Finn. A few months ago, she had entertained the thought of Joe, too. It just takes a look at her track record to make sure she very much likes boys. Besides, she doesn't have to be with a man to know she likes them. She just does.

She lifts her head and her eyes fleetingly meet Rachel's, who is smiling at her as she walks to sit back beside her. They are friends, most probably best friends, given all the time they spend together and the little secrets they have shared, Quinn decides. She also _knows_ Rachel will take the world by storm; that's the reason why she rigged the prom and tried to talk her out from marrying Finn. And, yes, she likes her company, and even more to make Rachel smile, but that doesn't mean anything. Quinn has found someone to whom she can talk about anything, and who seems to truly appreciate her presence and her thoughts. It's just that.

"-don't you think?" Rachel's last words vaguely register on her mind, and Quinn turns to her with a confused look.

"What? Sorry, I completely spaced out," she admits, and Rachel looks at her strangely, but her response is interrupted by Santana, who stomps in front of them out of the blue.

"Berry, are you done? I wanna go home," she declares, crossing her arms resolutely.

Quinn scowls at her. "What the hell, Santana?"

Something really bad must have happened, Quinn figures, because Santana simply replies, "Come on, Q. I'm tired."

Rachel frowns slightly, but doesn't ask. Instead, she nods and turns to Quinn. "It's okay, Quinn. I feel tired, anyway. Let's say our goodbyes."

Quinn knits her brows at Santana, who just shrugs and walks away. That worries Quinn even more, but Santana is clearly not open for conversation. She can only hope that nothing bad has happened between her and Brittany, not after their talk earlier.

But Brittany joins them in the car, which is all the more confusing, because it's the most awkward, silent drive ever, and the only sound comes from the radio. They drop Brittany at her house and bid her goodbye, and Santana just give her a peck on the lips when they part. Now Quinn is sure something has happened. Rachel looks at her questioningly after they leave Santana at her door, but she merely shakes her head, equally clueless.

Rachel shifts the gear to drive and they resume their quiet ride toward Quinn's house. Quinn is once again lost in her thoughts, and she peeks a look at Rachel's face illuminated by the street lights. She looks content, safely driving around the streets and enjoying the soft music filling the car. Quinn is content, too, however troubled her mind is. Rachel makes her feel good about herself. She feels safe, like she has never felt with anyone else. Maybe because Rachel has seen her in her worse, has been _targeted _by her worse, and yet there she is, regarding her high enough to spend whole days with her.

Quinn also regards her high. Sometimes she's absolutely struck by it, and at other times she's terrified by how much she is growing to crave Rachel's presence in her life. Rachel has a knack for making her laugh over silly things, which is something close to a gift. But- no. Santana is out of line. Quinn isn't like that. That's simply crazy.

"Quinn?" Rachel's voice breaks the spell, and Quinn silently thanks God that she hasn't turned and noticed her staring like a weirdo.

"Yeah?"

Rachel purses her lips and glances worriedly at Quinn for a second. "Is something bothering you? You seemed a little off all night."

Quinn's breath catches, and she takes a second to gather her bearings. "Oh. It's just-" she swallows and looks out the window, heart beating fast. "I guess I'm a bit down that Shelby hasn't called yet." Which isn't exactly a lie, anyway.

On the driver seat, Rachel's demeanor softens. "I see. I'm sorry, Quinn. But I'm sure she'll come around," she assures her confidently.

"Yeah, we'll see."

Rachel doesn't say anything after that, and a minute later she stops by Quinn's parkway.

"Thanks for the ride," Quinn smiles, briefly meeting Rachel's eyes.

"You're welcome," Rachel gently replies, then adds in a more serious tone, "Look, for what is worth, I really think you deserve a second chance, Quinn."

Warmth seeps through Quinn and her lips spread even wider. "Thanks, Rach. It means a lot."

Rachel shakes her head. "It's just the truth," she says, then presses a hand against Quinn's in sympathy.

It burns, white hot, and soon Quinn is out of breath with that simple gesture. Blood speeds around her body from the point where their fingers touch, leaving her so dizzy it's absurd.

She reaches for the door in a desperate excuse to end the contact, and manages to mutter a feeble, "So, tomorrow at your place?"

"Of course. Us and some new interesting company," Rachel specifies in amusement, completely unaware of the turmoil she has just caused inside Quinn, and that, weirdly, calms her down enough to act normal again. Rachel is just her friend, making friendly plans to hang out.

"Now, that's an understatement," Quinn laughs, stepping out of the car. "Good night, Rach."

"Good night, Quinn."

When she turns her back on the car, though, everything slowly comes back. Every little touch, every kind word, every smile and every single look imprint themselves inside Quinn's mind, making her head heavier by every step she takes to her front door. It's maddening, as it had been the whole night, but now that Quinn is by herself, everything is poised to swallow her like a giant wave. She's been dreading that moment all along, because deep inside she knows it's inevitable; she can only brush it off for so long.

Rachel's car disappears around the corner and Quinn closes the door behind her, clenching her fists so tightly her palms hurt as the whole night — and the last weeks, and the last months — crash upon her mercilessly. It's all Santana's doing, she tells herself desperately, drawing a shallow breath that goes all the way through her violently trembling body. It's just Santana messing with her head. It is not possible; it is not conceivable.

She doesn't — she _can't_ — have feelings for Rachel.


End file.
